tensely if I had not learned about
them in the way God thinks best to teach us his abhorrence of them. I
never read any book in which a sin was fully delineated that I did not
feel some of the excitement of the sin--some extenuation, perhaps, some
glossing over, some excuse for the sinner,--but in the record God gives I
always intensely hate the sin and feel how abominable it is in his sight.
The first book I ever cried over was the Bible and it was somebody's sin
that brought the tears. I would like to talk to Mrs. Grey!" cried Miss
Prudence, her eyes kindling with indignation. "To think that God does not
know what is good for his children."

"I wish you would," said Marjorie with enthusiasm, "for I don't know how
to say it. Mother knows a lady who will not read Esther on Sunday because
God isn't in it"

"The name of God, you mean," said Miss Prudence smiling. "I think Esther
and Mordecai and all the Jews thought God was in it."

"I will try not to build castles," promised Marjorie often a silent half
minute. "I've done it so much to please Linnet. After we go to bed at
night she says, 'Shut your eyes, Marjie, and tell me what you see,' Then
I shut my eyes and see things for us both. I see ourselves grown up and
having a splendid home and a real splendid husband, and we each have
three children. She has two boys and one girl, and I have two girls and
one boy. And we educate them and dress them so nice, and they do lovely
things. We travel all around the world with them, and I tell Linnet all
we see in Europe and Asia. Our husbands stay home and send us money. They
have to stay home and earn it, you know," Marjorie explained with a
shrewd little smile. "Would you give that all up?" she asked
disappointedly.

"Yes, I am sure I would. You are making a disappointment for yourself;
your life may not be at all like that. You may never marry, in the first
place, and you may marry a man who cannot send you to Europe, and I think
you are rather selfish to spend his money and not stay home and be a good
wife to him," said Miss Prudence, smiling.

"Oh. I write him splendid long letters!" said Marjorie quickly. "They are
so splendid that he thinks of making a book of them."

"I'm afraid they wouldn't take," returned Miss Prudence seriously, "books
of travel are too common nowadays."

"Is it wrong to build castles for any other reason than for making
disappointments?" Marjorie asked anxiously.

"Yes, you dwell only on plea